Trust
by Aurora Ilvento
Summary: Trust is a beautiful thing, especially if it's not something you can take for granted.
1. Chapter 1

It's early morning in the Los Angeles Office of Special Ops. Kensi practices taking apart and reassembling her service weapon while Deeks lounges lazily in his chair, feet on the desk, and files his nails. It has been a slow week with the two senior agents gone and no real cases to work on. The team's two younger members have been doing nothing but catching up on paperwork and getting on each other's nerves.  
After a few minutes of relative peace and quiet Deeks sets down his nail file and looks over to where Kensi is intently working on her gun. Studying her for a moment, he says speculatively, "You know, even though I should be used to it by now, your lack of feminine hobbies just keeps surprising me."  
"It's not my fault your gender roles are so outdated," she shoots back without raising her eyes off her SIG Sauer. "Besides, I'm practicing – because I want to be good at my job. Wouldn't hurt you either."  
"And ruin my manicure? Psssh." He waves a hand dismissively.  
Kensi rolls her eyes, then smiles brightly as Sam walks in, glad to have someone else to talk to.  
"Hey Sam, how was the vacation?" she calls out.  
The older agent favors her with a broad smile. "It was good, very relaxing. Just what I needed." He sets down his bag on his desk and shoves the younger man's feet off of it, ignoring his outraged squawk.  
Kensi moans, envious, "I could use a relaxing vacation, too. A relaxing, partner-free vacation." She shoots a look at said partner who continues his grooming and pretends he can't hear her. Raising her voice, she continues, "Deeks has been insufferable this whole time." Sam sits down and starts sorting through his inbox. "Speaking of annoying partners, where's G?"  
"He's not here. The CIA borrowed him, about a week ago," Kensi informs him.  
Sam feels all that carefully cultured relaxation disappear instantly. But he forces himself to keep doing his paperwork – after all, Callen has been on solo assignments before when one of the alphabet agencies needed his particular skill set and has always made it back in one piece. Still, Sam is grateful for the distraction when he hears a familiar whistling. Looking up, he sees their bespectacled technical analyst standing at the upper floor railing, beckoning them. "Get up here, guys."  
Kensi glowers and Eric adds, "And girls."  
When everyone is gathered upstairs, Sam looks expectantly at their tech team.  
"So, what's up?"  
"I have no idea, Hetty just told me to call you," says Eric, already tapping away at his computer again.  
Nell, sitting next to him, shrugs. "Me neither."  
Sam crosses his arms and leans against the wall.  
Kensi sighs. "Well, I guess we wait."  
"I should have brought my nail file" Deeks looks wistfully at is nails.  
"There will be time for your manicure later, Mr. Deeks." Deeks jumps. Hetty, sneaky as ever, has appeared at his elbow. "I have just received bad news about our Mr. Callen. Apparently the CIA lost contact with him three days ago and hasn't felt the need to notify us until now."  
" _What?_ " Kensi shouts in outrage.  
"Damn." Sam clenches his fists.  
Deeks speaks up, concern in his voice. "Do we know what happened?"  
"It appears they have a security leak, therefore the mission was compromised. They also told me they cannot afford to help us since they are too busy fixing that leak. So we are on our own here."  
Silence reigns after that as everyone's thoughts turn to the possible outcomes, none of them too promising.  
Looking around at the subdued group, Nell timidly offers comfort. "I'm sure he's alright. I mean, Callen can take care of himself."  
Hetty steps in. "Of course he can, but this isn't good. We need to work quickly to get our man back."  
They all set on this task with great determination, Deeks, Kensi and Sam following every lead they can find, Eric and Nell scouring the databases. Still it takes two more days and Hetty calling in a favor to finally get a clue on Callen's possible whereabouts.

That's how the abbreviated team find themselves in the desolate woodlands in backwaters Argentina. The area appears deserted, but the trees and the ruins of houses scattered here and there provide ample cover, so Sam, as the senior agent taking up the role as leader, instructs the younger team members to "Be careful, there could be hostiles in the area."  
They split up to cover more ground, with Kensi and Deeks going north and Sam searching the southern half alone, wishing for his partner at his side. He desperately hopes Callen's alright, but bitter experience has taught him to expect the worst. He's so occupied with these thoughts that he almost doesn't recognize his partner when he steps into a doorway and suddenly finds himself face to face with him, only his well-honed reflexes keeping him from shooting the very person he tries to save. The unexpected nature of their meeting is also the reason Callen keeps his gun trained on Sam – at least he hopes so. Standing in the doorway, he's backlit and probably no more than a hulking figure with a weapon to Callen, but he can see the his partner clearly. The smaller man's eyes are a bit wild, the shadows under them so dark they look like bruises. Or maybe they _are_ bruises – it would go with the cut on his cheek and the split eyebrow. He also has dried blood on his shirt and fresh red liquid on his hand. After taking all this in, he notices Callen still hasn't lowered his gun.  
"Hey, it's okay." Sam tries to reassure him, talking in a low, soothing voice as if to a wild animal, "G, it's me."  
With slow, deliberate movements, he holsters his weapon and spreads his hands to show he means no harm.  
Callen squints at him. "Sam?" His voice is raspy and disbelieving, but to Sam's relief he slowly lowers his gun.  
Studying his partner, Sam cautiously advances. Callen makes no move to keep him back, so he closes the distance and pulls him into a hug. The other man stiffens, then briefly relaxes against him before pulling back.  
"What are you doing here? I thought you were on vacation."  
"I was. I came back two days ago."  
"Why? You weren't supposed to be back till the fourth."  
"G, it's already the sixth."  
"Oh." Callen pauses to digest that, swaying slightly on his feet.  
Sam is about to suggest getting back to camp for some much needed first aid when they hear the click of a trigger being pulled halfway. Callen whirls around while Sam draws his gun. Both fire at the same time, dropping the man. They check the body.  
"That's Burt Bronstein, the CIA informant. He sold me out," Callen says bitterly. "He wanted to eliminate everyone involved and sent his team after me."  
 _Great, another betrayal_. Just what Callen, whose trust issues just may be record-breaking already, needs, Sam thinks.  
"He the last one?" He nudges the body with his foot, resisting the urge to kick it.  
"Yes, it was a six-man team – unless they called reinforcements. I don't think so, but we'd better regroup in any case."  
"Okay, I'm on it." Sam calls Kensi and Deeks, informing them he's found Callen and to meet back at camp, then turns back to his partner.  
"Are you okay?" he asks, indicating the large red patch on his shirt  
"Just a scratch, I'm fine."  
"Uh-huh." Knowing Callen's definition of _fine_ isn't quite the same as everyone else's, but since his partner is still on his feet after five days he reckons it can wait till they've reached the safety of their camp.

The camp they set up is in one of the ruins – little more than a floor and four walls, but it provides cover and reflects the heat of the fire. Comfort-wise it's pretty lacking, but all of them have slept rough before, so they don't mind. The other team members are already waiting for them when they arrive. Kensi immediately runs to hug Callen and Deeks claps him on the shoulder. "Glad you're alright, man."  
"Thanks."  
While Deeks and Kensi bustle off to prepare food, Sam gets the first-aid kit and shoves it at Callen.  
While Callen self-administers first-aid, Sam watches and wishes not for the first time his partner wasn't so stubbornly independent – the fresh wound on his right hand clearly hurts and he's getting blood everywhere.  
Callen notices his friend hovering and looks up, slightly annoyed. "Sam, I don't need you watching over my shoulder. It's not the first time I've done this."  
Sam only grunts noncommittally, unwilling to budge.  
Knowing there's no stopping his partner when he's in full mother-hen mode, Callen sighs and continues patching himself up, pulling up his blood-stained shirt. Sam pulls in a hissing breath as he sees the long, ugly furrow over his partner's ribs, probably from close call with a bullet. Callen ignores him and inspects the wound. His vision isn't very good right now, dehydration and exhaustion making his head swim, but he thinks it doesn't look too bad. While stitches might be necessary, he decides they could wait until he gets back – he's just too damn tired right now. He cleans he wound and applies antibiotic cream though he knows Hetty will want to give him a tetanus shot anyway. He shudders at the thought and finishes by covering the wound with gauze.  
Callen likewise tends to his injured, a deep laceration where he had to grab a knife to keep it from slitting his throat. Then he hesitates, wondering how to treat the cuts on his face without a mirror or something else to see his reflection in. Feeling Sam's expectant gaze on him, he grudgingly lets the other man do that part.  
Sam tries to keep his face carefully neutral as he works, but internally he's smiling, pleased at the show of trust – they've clearly come a long way in the four years they've been partners. He might not have succeeded in keeping his expression neutral, though, because Callen looks increasingly suspicious.  
"Why are you smiling like that? I hope you're not drawing on my face."  
"Shhh, I'm working." But Sam's grinning now. He tries to concentrate on the wounds, but Callen is glaring at him, which is quite distracting. Thankfully there isn't much to do, he only has to clean away the blood, disinfect the cuts and slap some butterfly bandages on.  
"There. All better now." He smirks. The glare intensifies, so he points to the improvised washing area they set up. "If you want to wash up, water is over there. Fresh clothes, too. You rather stink, if you don't mind me saying."  
"I'm sorry, I haven't had time to freshen up. Next time I'm being hunted by professional killers, I'll make sure to bring my toiletries so as not to offend your delicate nose," Callen retorts sarcastically. He closes the first-aid kid with a snap and tosses it at Sam, wearing a crooked smile – he has really missed bantering with his partner. He's not offended, either; after all Sam's right, he really needs a shower, he feels itchy and sticky all over and his clothes are stiff with dirt, dried sweat and blood. A hot bath to soak his aching muscles in would be even better, but cold water will have to do.  
While Callen is getting cleaned up, Sam remembers to call Hetty, Nell and Eric and tell them the good news.  
"He's a bit banged up, but he'll be fine."  
"Thank goodness." Hetty allows herself a sigh of relief, then gets briskly back to business.  
"Extraction time is tomorrow at 0900. Be on time."

Being clean again feels good, but now he's exhausted. On the run for five days straight, on little to no sleep and food and water only what he could procure – Callen has reached the end of his endurance. He gladly sits down against a wall and stretches his tired legs towards the fire with a sigh.  
"Here." He looks up. Sam is standing over him, holding out a bottle of water, which he gratefully accepts.  
Sam sits down on his haunches and studies him. "When was the last time you ate?"  
Callen frowns as he tries to remember. "I caught a rabbit a couple of days ago... found some berries yesterday. So, yesterday."  
"Then it's a good thing Uncle Marty has cooked his delicious campfire stew." Grinning, Deeks brandishes a spoon like some demented cook.  
"That's creepy, Deeks." Kensi tries to hit him on the leg. Her partner jumps back, almost stepping into the fire, causing Kensi to laugh gleefully. Deeks pretends to be hurt by her joy at his expense and they bicker as they distribute the soup. Though he's bone-deep weary, Callen can't help but crook a smile at their antics _.  
It's good to be back._


	2. Chapter 2

[Thanks for the feedback, guys! And for the Christmas greetings :) And yes, there will be a second part – this is it. Enjoy :)]

It has been a long day for all of them, so even Deeks is quiet while they eat. Sitting around the fire in companionable silence is pretty cozy. Now that the team is together again, it almost feels like a camping trip – except for the fact they still have to be on guard in case there are hostiles around.  
Though Callen is starved, he manages to eat only half his portion before his eyes start drifting shut. Noticing the cup is slipping from his partner's grasp, Sam reaches over to take it out of his hands. He's trying to be stealthy about it as the other man clearly needs the sleep, but the furtive movement, of course, rouses Callen. He blinks at Sam, looking very much like an owl caught in daylight. The ex-SEAL has to smile. "Go to sleep, G."  
Unusually compliant, Callen grunts and slowly climbs to his feet. Taking a blanket, he retreats, knowing his team has his six and he can finally let his guard down. He curls up on his side and drops off almost instantly, lulled by the sound of the crackling flames and his team members' low voices.

Sam drains his cup and settles down next to his sleeping partner to keep watch. He feels honored that someone as distrustful as Callen would let him guard his back and he's determined not to let him down.  
Kensi watches the two of them. She knows that the thought of almost losing his partner again has been hard on Sam. She also knows that he hasn't slept at all yesterday, but will stay awake anyway to watch over Callen the whole night if necessary. It makes her wonder if she'll ever have such a bond with her partner. She won't admit it to anyone, much less Deeks himself – mostly because she wouldn't be able to stand his gloating – but she's rather confident. Deeks may act like a fool most of the time, but when it counts, he's a professional through and through. Said professional is currently sticking his tongue out, trying to catch the last drops of stew from his overturned cup, but she decides to let that slide. A little lightheartedness might actually do them good in their line of business. Their job is serious enough, after all and can take a toll on you, like it does on Sam right now. He's sitting cross-legged, as immovable as a statue, but his eyelids are drooping – he's clearly struggling to stay awake. Since Callen is out for the count and currently unable save Sam from himself, Kensi decides to step in. She moves up next to him and nudges his shoulder, saying, "How about you get some shut-eye, too? We'll take first watch." Behind her Deeks has finally abandoned his attempts to lick the cup clean and nods vigorously.  
But Sam's not convinced. "I'm not sure I trust Blondie over there." Deeks' face falls. He knows he's not Sam's favorite person, but such blatant disregard stings. He tries to ascribe it to the fact that the older man is cranky from fatigue and worry and hasn't meant it to come out that harshly. Kensi, meanwhile, has put on an earnest expression and keeps working on persuading the senior agent. "But you trust me, don't you?"  
"Of course."  
"Then go to sleep."  
Torn between trusting Kensi and his determination of keeping an eye on things himself, Sam's wavering. As if sensing his inner turmoil, Callen reaches back to sleepily pat his partner's arm. "It's okay, Sam. Kensi's got this. And Deeks does his job just fine, too." Deeks perks up again at the unexpected praise.  
Sam grumbles but lays down against his partner's back, not close enough to touch, but so that he can feel the other man's reassuring presence. Callen, already half-asleep again, appreciates the warmth Sam puts out. He can feel it even through his blanket, because the man produces body heat like an oven. After the long, cold nights without adequate shelter, as well as increasing exhaustion and blood loss, coldness has settled in his bones. It had been especially bad after he had to cross a river to conceal his tracks – the water was so freezing he thought he'd never be warm again. This is much better. He sighs contentedly and drifts off.

"Kensi, take a look at that." Deeks is back from his perimeter of the camp and nudges his partner. Kensi had been dozing lightly in front of the fire, but snaps awake instantly. She looks at her watch. It's almost morning. They have been taking turns at keeping watch all night and so far it's been all quiet: No enemies have popped up to kill them – no sound overall except for the cries of nocturnal animals. Even Callen, a notoriously light and restless sleeper, hasn't stirred once. Still, she quickly reaches for her gun, but Deeks shakes his head with a big grin on his face. "Come, I'll show you something," he whispers.  
The combination of that phrase and her immature partner doesn't bode well, so it's with a certain amount of wariness she follows him over to the other side of the fire where Callen and Sam are sleeping. Her skeptical expression melts to one of complete adoration at the sight in front of her. Sometime during the night one of the two must have scooted closer for warmth or for comfort, so now the two senior agents are sleeping huddled together like a pair of puppies.  
Kensi presses her hands over her mouth to keep from giggling. "Awww, that's so cute."  
She tiptoes closer and extends an arm to snap a picture with her mobile phone, careful to keep her distance – because she doesn't want to be in attacking distance when one of them startles awake. Peering at her phone, she makes her way back to Deeks,.  
"I can't wait to show this to Nell. And Hetty. She'll love this. Maybe she'll have it framed."  
Deeks leans in to look at the screen. He elbows her playfully in the side. "Now who has the outdated gender roles? I'm sure Eric also wants to see this. And I want a copy, too."  
"Alright. We just have to make sure _they,_ " she hooks a thumb at the two sleeping agents, "never get to see this picture."  
"Why? We'll tell them you took it. They never get mad at you, you're their little– Ow!"  
Kensi has stomped on his foot. Smiling sweetly, she corrects him. "They never get mad at me, because I'm always efficient and professional."  
Deeks is hopping around, rubbing his foot, and almost jumps into the fire again. "Come on, you know those two love you. Besides, Callen said I'm doing great."  
"No, he said 'fine', which is not the same – and he was half-asleep, so it doesn't count."  
"Why are you always mean to me?" Deeks is doing his hurt-puppy impression which always annoys her a great deal. Mostly because she actually thinks it's cute – but nobody has to know that.  
"I'm not mean, I just want to keep you on your toes. You need the training, after all."  
Their voices grow louder and louder as they get caught up in their argument.

The sound of two voices bickering is what wakes Sam. He fuzzily thinks, _Great, the kids are already awake._ Aware of a smaller form at his back, he mumbles, "Honey, the kids are fighting. Should I go break it up?" There's no reaction, so he reaches back to gently shake her awake. But upon touching the blanketed shape, he immediately pulls his hand back as if burned. Something's off. It's hard to tell through the blanket, but Michelle feels different somehow – harder, more masculine. Puzzled, he turns around and finds himself staring not into his wife's warm brown eyes, but into the wary blue ones of his partner. Callen's looking rather confused, probably wondering what the hell Sam's doing. He's actually asking himself the same thing.  
Once they get their bearings they simultaneously realize they're lying rather close together and quickly put some distance between them. With one look they come to the silent agreement that the best course of action is to never talk about the fact that they had been practically cuddling. Or even better, to just pretend it never happened.  
That settled, Sam stretches extravagantly, feeling surprisingly refreshed despite spending the night on the hard ground. Though he had been roughing it many times as a SEAL, lately he has gotten rather used to sleeping in a comfortable bed with his wife.  
Callen follows his partner's example, only more gingerly so in consideration to his battered body. But after being able to recharge in safety and relative comfort he already feels tremendously better. Though he's surprised to see it's already morning. This had to be the longest amount of time he has slept at one stretch since, well, since he can remember, basically.  
Looking across the embers of their campfire, he notices the two younger members of the team are having one of their inane arguments. He elbows his partner. "They're at it again."  
Sam just grunts. That's not exactly news and he's busy calculating how long it'll take them to make their way to the rendezvous point. He decides they have enough time for breakfast and gets up to prepare it. Callen makes a move to help him, but Sam motions for him to stay put. Callen rolls his eyes. Ignoring his overprotective partner, he rises anyway. He sends Kensi to build up the fire again and Deeks to get water, effectively ending their discussion. Then he joins Sam in preparing the MREs.  
During breakfast the two younger agents seem to be getting along again, but now they're behaving rather odd, giggling and whispering and casting furtive glances in their direction.  
Callen and Sam share a look.  
"We better not ask." Callen gets up and starts packing stuff, ready to get out of this god-forsaken wasteland and back to civilization.  
"Yep, probably better," agrees Sam and takes the crate his partner's currently lifting out of his hands, admonishing him not to reopen the wounds before they're stitched.  
Callen responds drily, "Yes, mom," and finds something else to do.

After breaking camp the once more complete team head to the rendezvous point, ready to go home. While they wait for the chopper to pick them up since they're rather early – at full strength they're pretty damn efficient – Kensi and Deeks pass the time by playing with their phones and once again laughing about something that's apparently very funny. It's no unusual behavior for Deeks, but for Kensi much more so. In fact it's so uncharacteristic that it piques the older agents' curiosity.  
Callen, head cocked to one side, studies Kensi quizzically. "What's so funny?"  
"It's nothing." She quickly stuffs the phone in her pocket.  
Of course that doesn't fool him. He just keeps her pinned with his gaze, a method she has seen him use many times on their suspects. It doesn't leave her unaffected, either. But before she can fold, Sam, who has far less patience for this kind of thing, just grabs Deeks in a headlock and wrestles the phone away from him. Looking at the screen, he distractedly releases the younger man who stumbles to Kensi's side, rubbing his throat.  
A forbidding frown settles over Sam's features. "Hey, what the fuck is that?"  
Kensi and Deeks look at each other.  
 _Uh-oh._


End file.
